


In You (In You)

by thedinoflower



Category: EXO (Band), K-pop, SHINee
Genre: Bottom Kim Jongin | Kai, Conspicuously Unnamed Female Character, Dominant Lee Taemin, Femdom, Humiliation kink, Implications that Lee Taemin Is a Sadist, Light BDSM, Light Dom/sub, Multi, Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Submissive Kim Jongin | Kai, Threesome - F/M/M, Top Lee Taemin, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-04-16 21:28:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14173773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedinoflower/pseuds/thedinoflower
Summary: Kim Jongin was shy.As much as he hated feeling vulnerable in front of a crowd, feeling vulnerable inprivatetook that feeling and twisted it into something hot and tingly.





	In You (In You)

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, just a short threesome story with BDSM themes, all centered around a very submissive Jongin. I have strong feelings about submissive Jongin.
> 
> I left the female character unnamed. Maybe she's Krystal/Soojung. Maybe she's the reader. Maybe she's whoever the kids are shipping one or both of these boys with at the moment. But in their scenes, she's Jongin's Noona, and that's what's important.
> 
> Thank you to Trash for your love and support, and thank you especially to CountYoongula for beta-ing for me.

Kim Jongin was shy.

When he stood on stage, nothing to do but listen to his hyungs talk and feel the weight of thousands of eyes on him, he liked to pull his baseball cap down over his eyes and hide his hands behind his back. Sometimes, he’d step back a bit from the line and mark choreography, just to get out of his head, maybe to gain a little bit of strength from _Kai._

When he was performing a song, it was one thing. Dance made him happy, and he knew _exactly_ what he was supposed to be doing with every part of his body. It was so physical that there was no room to get up in his head, and, maybe most importantly, he was able to put on a persona. When he could hide behind dance, hide behind “Kai,” it was easier to forget how nervous he was in front of people, how shy and awkward he felt.

As much as he hated feeling vulnerable in front of a crowd, feeling vulnerable in _private_ took that feeling and twisted it into something hot and tingly. It was terrifying at first, but he almost felt like it was something he needed.

Consequently, “Kai” was banned from the bedroom most nights.

 

It was especially hard on the nights when Taemin was watching.

Jongin knew that it was because Taemin-hyung liked his body, liked the way that he moved, liked the way that he fucked his Noona, liked seeing them together... but in the middle of things, it was easy to pretend that Taemin’s eyes were judgemental and that his smirk was a little cruel. It was easy to forget, to lose himself in the people he loved, in the moment. Taemin became the judgemental audience that Jongin feared, and there was not a thing that Jongin could hide.

Taemin clicked his tongue, and Jongin dared a glance over his shoulder. Taemin was leaning back in his chair, posture almost bored. He rested hand on his thigh, but he still wasn’t even touching his straining and (unfortunately) still-clothed cock. Jongin forced his eyes up to Taemin’s face, swallowing when Taemin raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “You can do better than that,” he scolded before addressing Jongin’s Noona. When he spoke to her, his face almost softened in a way that somehow suggested he was speaking to an equal. “Does he feel good at _all_ , Jagiya?”

Jongin glanced down at her and rolled his hips a little harder, for emphasis. He hadn’t broken rhythm this entire time, fucking into her smoothly, tucking his hips up just a little at the end of each thrust before he pulled back. She felt incredible, and he wanted to make her come, make her happy, but she was tilting her head thoughtfully, and the look in her eyes was almost pitying.

“He’s doing fine,” she allowed in a faux-placating way. The touch of her hand to his hair was more genuinely tender, but it made her disappointment cut through him all the more hotly. He was trying so _hard_ , and Taemin was _watching_ , and it wasn’t enough for either of them. It should have been humiliating, and it was, but it was so _good._

Taemin may be the one playing the audience, but his Noona was the one he needed to please, the one who would put him in a tight cock ring next time if he was bad this time. The one who planned their scenes and held his heart in her well-manicured hands. The one who made sure that they all got what they needed.

And he wasn’t pleasing her.

Jongin bit his lip and started fucking deeper, harder, still moving at the same slow and thorough pace, trying not to get lost in the pleasure that was starting to roll up through him. He didn’t want to come first. He didn’t _dare_ come first.

Jongin hiked her leg further up his hip but startled when a hand grabbed his wrist and wrenched it away. He had been so focused that he hadn’t heard or felt Taemin come up behind him. Another hand carded up through the hair on his nape and then fisted sharply, tilting his head back and to the side, and Taemin’s mouth ghosted along his neck, leaving hot breath and sharp little nips in its wake. Jongin weakly tried to continue moving his hips, wanting to be _good_. “It’s cute to watch you try so hard, but let me show you how to _fuck_ ,” Taemin breathed, voice harsh and hot under Jongin’s skin. He gave Jongin’s ass a slap and shoved him forward onto his Noona by the grip in his hair. Jongin barely managed to catch himself and avoid crushing her. He started to lift himself up to pull out, frantic apologies ready on his lips, when he felt a steadying hand grip his hip and a cold, lubed finger press gently but insistently against his hole.

And _oh_. That was what Taemin meant by _showing_.

“Don’t stop, baby,” Jongin’s Noona warned, voice gentle but firm and full of dangerous promise. She ran a hand through his hair, and he could feel the blunt edges of her nails against his scalp.

Jongin shuddered. “Yes, Noona.”

She gave him a tiny smile, almost a smirk, but didn’t offer any verbal reassurance. Jongin tucked his head into the crook of her neck, took a steadying breath, and started to move again. Taemin’s finger slipped inside of him, moving with him and into him, matching the pace of his rocking hips. Taemin’s fingers were long, and he was never rough, not during this part, but he was steady and constant, pushing in in in until he was able to palm Jongin’s ass with one hand and guide the rhythm with the force of his whole hand.

“At least you’re good at _being fucked_ ,” Taemin mused. The words combined with the sensations in Jongin’s and started to drag him under, to pull him into that space where the anxieties and the pleasure washed over him and came together and he faded away, just a little. “Is that what you wanted? Is that why you didn’t do a better job, so you’d end up between us like the needy little attention whore you are?” Jongin gasped when the words were punctuated with another finger, slow and inexorable as the first. The stretch was just enough to burn a little, to feel foreign despite how often they did this.

His Noona laughed as his rhythm faltered. “You know how he likes to be the center of attention, Taemin-ah. Maybe next time, he can sit out. Pretend he isn’t even there.”

Jongin tried to stifle his resulting moan, remembering how fierce his two lovers could get when left to their own devices, how competitive. The memories were almost overwhelmingly hot. He pulled back to look at his Noona with wide eyes, wondering if they would even let him touch himself, wondering if they would tie him up. He was half afraid and half aroused.

His his dick twitched, which made his Noona laugh harder.

“He isn’t going to last long at this rate,” she announced, rolling her eyes. “Just fuck me, Taemin.”

Jongin could feel Taemin’s grin against the back of his neck, the curve of his lips and the press of his teeth that ended in a firm bite. “Happily, my love.”

Taemin’s fingers were only gone for a moment, but Jongin felt so strange and empty in their absence. He needed them both - he was ready for them both. They weren’t wrong when they said that he was needy.

“Please,” Jongin breathed, tilting his hips back a little, arching in a way that he knew made his ass look amazing. All it earned him was a sharp smack to one cheek.

“Shut up.” But there was a smile in Taemin’s voice.

The blunt, wet head of Taemin’s cock pressed against him, and Jongin’s hips finally stilled.

Taemin pressed inside as slowly and smoothly as he did everything, voice groaning low in Jongin’s ear. His hands trailed down from Jongin’s shoulders to his hands, lacing through his fingers and pinning them down.

He bottomed out with one last surprise thrust, nearly knocking the breath from Jongin’s lungs. The pressure inside him, around him, was almost overwhelming. The strong planes of abs against his back and the soft mounds of breasts against his front. Three sets of breathing and heartbeats.

He had to hold back from coming.

Taemin started fucking into him, deep and steady, gradually picking up speed. Jongin’s Noona moaned beneath them, and it should have been exaggerated but it felt so heady, and it was for _Taemin._ Her eyes looked over Jongin’s shoulder like he wasn’t there. “Oh, fuck, that’s so good,” she sighed, encouraging. Shame prickled hot through Jongin, exhilarating. Taemin was using his body for his own pleasure, for hers. Like a tool. Like a sex toy. Because he wasn’t doing it well enough. He wasn’t doing it well enough, and Taemin had to step in to make it better. His heart started pounding, the buzz inside of him, under his skin, like a high.

Jongin finally found himself surrendering to Taemin’s movements, squirming just a little against his grip in order to really feel how trapped he was between them. He tucked his head back into his Noona’s neck, trying to stifle his whimper. He was powerless, out of control, but not useless. He was _nothing_ , but he was the center of their world. He was the conduit of their love for each other - no, he _was_ their love for each other - and he didn't need to be anything else.

Taemin’s pace became brutal, his grip bruising. “ _This_ is how you fuck, Nini,” he grunted. Jongin felt the beginnings of overwhelmed tears forming in his eyes even as the need to orgasm started creeping up his spine. His Noona seemed determined to milk it out of him, squeezing in her own rhythm, mercilessly warm and wet and inviting, deceptively soft just as Taemin was deceptively hard. She was teasing him, _testing_ him.

Fuck, he was going to come. He ground his pelvis down in desperate little circles and was rewarded with a sharp gasp below him. She _had_ to come first. Jongin mouthed at her neck, changing the angle of his hips until she was making the high-pitched cries that meant she was going to come. Fuck, it was so hot, and Jongin groaned, lost in the feeling of them both. “Come for me, Nini,” Taemin whispered, voice sinful and tempting. “Come for us.”

Jongin rushed over the edge, coming so hard he felt almost lightheaded. His Noona came right after, clenching around him and drawing out one last weak burst of pleasure that made him shudder.

His Noona wrapped her arms around Jongin’s neck and drew him into a filthy kiss as the oversensitivity began to creep in, pain lacing with and overtaking pleasure, too much in the absolute _best_ way. She pulled back and touched his forehead to hers. “You okay?”

He nodded, kissed her nose. Taemin squeezed his hands, still grinding into his ass, chasing his own pleasure. Jongin groaned and tipped forward, trying to distract himself with a soft mouth. They let him.

Taemin came not long after, emptying hot and deep into Jongin. He stayed buried there for a moment, panting, before he kissed Jongin’s shoulder and carefully pulled out, fondly and absently patting Jongin’s ass as he got up to go get a washcloth.

Jongin nuzzled his Noona, his _jagiya_ , and wrapped his arms around her, rolling them over so that she was lying mostly on top of him.

“You’re gonna leak on the sheets,” she teased, wiping a stray tear off of his cheek.

He pouted. “They’re already gross. Cuddle me.”

She smacked his thigh. “You don’t give the orders, brat,” she admonished, but she didn’t pull away, just absently dug her teeth into his shoulder.

“Hey, cuddle me, too,” Taemin demanded, throwing himself into bed, earning himself a few surprisingly coordinated kicks. The washcloth landed on Jongin’s chest, but it was only a moment before Taemin laughed and started cleaning them up. He was always extra gentle with Jongin after they did these things, even though it had been Jongin’s idea in the first place, had been Jongin who needed it.

“I love you,” Jongin said to the room at large, staring up at the ceiling. He had been with Taemin for a couple of years and his Noona almost eight months, but it was still sometimes hard to talk about his feelings with them. He could feel the blush creep up his cheeks, but they had just seen him fail, seen him cry, and they had stayed and been gentle and taken care of him. They loved him all the way through, and he didn’t have anything to be afraid of.

Taemin leaned down and finally kissed him, then her, both slowly and thoroughly. “Love you, too.”

“You guys are sappy,” their girlfriend teased, wrinkling her nose. She cut them off before they could start whining at her, “But I guess I love you, too.” Her hand found Jongin’s, and she squeezed.

They fell into an easy pile of limbs, too warm and still a little sticky but happy-tired and heavy down in their bones. They’d get up soon enough, cram into a shower or bath, order takeout, watch a little anime. And Jongin would feel comfortable and open, at least for a few more hours.

Most importantly, he would feel like _Jongin._

**Author's Note:**

> I'm @thedinoflower on Twitter. Almost all I do is yell about k-pop.


End file.
